


One Shot - Angels Were Meant To Fly

by TheAngelThyla



Series: New Avengers: Heroes of Tomorrow [5]
Category: Next Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Cousins, Family Bonding, Flying, Fmaily, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Wingfic, Wings, Xavier Institute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelThyla/pseuds/TheAngelThyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and James have a heart-to-heart and James flies for the first time.</p>
<p>Set shortly after the one shot, "My Name Is James." Possibly even the next day (?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Shot - Angels Were Meant To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for not having posted anything recently. I've had a HORRIBLE case of writer's block and I've been working so hard on those other one-shots at the same time as I've been trying to figure out what the sequel's going to be about plus I've been working so hard on my New Year's Resolution and- Sorry, I'm rambling.  
> Anyways, I was curious about James' first time flying and needed something else to think about while my brain recharged. My writer's block is back again but it's better so I hope to have something else up sometimes soon?

James followed the relatively small class of mutants, ranging from middle schoolers to adults, across the grassy field and towards the cliff that dropped off into Breakstone Lake; a good fifty feet, at least, down. James stuck close behind his teacher, Miss Cameron aka Lifegaurd, when they neared the edge.  
"Alright, class," the gold-skinned woman called to the other students. "Welcome to your first flight lesson." She removed the long, tan trenchcoat she had been wearing to reveal golden wings, disturbingly similar in size and shape to James' own.  
The students all shared looks askance with each other, apparently hearing for the first time that they all had wings or flew in some way.  
James leaned back against a small oak on the edge of the cliff, attempting to blend in so he wouldn't be seen, and pulled his own black trenchcoat tighter around him, listening to the instructions his teacher was giving.  
One by one, she helped each mutant figure out how to use their abilities (may it be some sort of energy propulsion or actual wings) to get off the ground. The goal, she told them, was to learn how to hover a few feet above ground until they were sure they knew what they were doing.  
James watched as some of the students manifested wings of energy, or peeled them from their backs like tattoos coming to life, or took off coats and shirts to reveal wings of leather and bone or soft, sleek feathers; each figuring out quickly how to keep from falling on their rears.  
He thought he'd gotten away with not participating until Miss Cameron called his name.  
"You just gonna stand there all day?" She had her hands on her hips and jerked her head for him to join them.  
The boy felt his face grow hot and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking to the ground.  
"I'd, um, I'd rather just sit this one out, miss," he squeaked.  
"Come on, James. There's no reason to be scared." Sunlight reflected off her metallic skin as she sauntered over, arms crossed but smirk on her lips.  
"I'm not afraid," James immediately retorted, even though it was obviously a lie. "I just-" He didn't know what excuse to use that didn't sound completely stupid. He sighed and looked at his shoes.  
"Maybe I can help?" James looked up to see his cousin, Sam, walking towards them, his hands in his pockets.  
"Alright," the teacher sighed. "Just make sure he gets up in the air." She promptly turned back to the other students and left the boys alone.  
James turned away from the 16 year old and stared out at the horizon where the other side of the lake met land.  
Sam came up next to him and laid a reassuring hand on the younger's shoulder.  
"What's bothering you, Jamie?"  
James rolled his eyes at the asinine nickname but didn't reply; instead crossing his arms and setting his jaw, but making no attempt to dislodge the hand.  
"Come on, man." James heard Sam sigh. "Look, I'm not here to tell you what to do or how to live your life, but you need to understand who and what you are."  
The younger boy looked up then, feeling tears pricking the back of his eyes.  
"I know what I am, Sammy," he whispered. "I'm just afraid of what that means."  
Sam chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head, turning his attention to the horizon.  
"You're so lucky and you don't even know it."  
James frowned, turning his head back to the lake.  
After a moment's silence, Sam continued. "You know what your mom calls you? What she's called you since you were born?"  
A corner of James' mouth quirked up. " _Golubchik _."  
"And do you know what that means?" Sam's voice was patient and even.  
"'Little dove,'" James sighed, barely loud enough to be considered speaking.  
"Exactly," Sam stated, turning to look James in the eye. "Ever since you were born, before she even knew you were a mutant, let alone had _wings, _she's always called you that."  
James tried to look away but Sam grabbed his chin.  
"Jay-Jay, you were _born _to fly." Sam's voice quivered with something James coudn't identify. "You were born to be free; to be a symbol of hope and peace."  
Sam's hand fell to his side and James looked to the ground.  
James didn't look as his cousin turned to go, but not before Sam spoke one last time: "Angels were meant to fly, James. Whether they agree or not."  
James turned to see Sam's retreating back, mulling it over in his mind. Just because his mother called him something that vaguely represented flight didn't mean he _should _fly... Or did it? What were the odds?  
And Sam. Sam had said he was lucky. _Yeah, right. I can't even go anywhere anymore without being treated like a freak. _But maybe Sam was right; maybe James was meant to fly.  
The boy shifted his wings underneath his coat. _Golubchik. Little Dove _. How was it coincidence that his wings looked similar to a Mourning Dove?  
Maybe it was fate.  
After a moment, James found himself on autopilot removing his trenchcoat and pulling his t-shirt over his head. He dropped them to the ground before he began to unbuckle his binds.  
"James?" Miss Cameron called, but James ignored her in favor of dropping the leather straps and plunging head-first off the cliff and towards the rocks below.  
A chorus of his name were being shouted from above, including Sam's cries and James felt the fear roll off them in waves, choking him, but he closed himself off to everything but the feel of the wind in his feathers and stinging his eyes and cheeks.  
He held his wings close to his back until he was so close to the rocks, he could probably count the grains of sand in between them if he wanted, but spread his wings at the last possible moment to their full length and suddenly was soaring over the water. The heat of the sun clashed with the cold spray of the water, causing his wings to shiver.  
He could feel the wind blowing between his feathers, the stiffness of the muscles in his wings, and the burn of his cheeks against the water droplets he was flying through at top speed.  
He flapped his wings a few times to go higher, the instinct to fly making him feel as if he'd been doing this all his life. The only sounds were the wind rushing past his ears and the steady yet quick beating of his heartbeat in his ears; the smell of ozone reaching a crescendo when he passed the few clouds above.  
The place where he'd almost severed his wing burned but that only made him beat the wind harder, suddenly needing to make up for what he'd almost lost; a phantom weight of the shears settling in his hands. Looking back, he realised how much he was glad his mother saved him.  
He banked hard until he was turned back the way he came, back to the cliffs, and soared over the heads of the other students and his cousin, who had a proud grin stretched across his face and his phone pointed at James. Apparently he had known James was going to pull something like this.  
James flew closer and closer to the ground until he was just a few feet up before he pulled his wings in and rolled through the grass, protected only by his wings from the hard ground.  
Sitting up, he groaned and rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks from his previously unused wings before turning towards the sound of running feet.  
"What is _wrong _with you?" his teacher bellowed. "You could've been _killed _!"____________  
But James was too busy trading grins with Sam to pay any attention.  
Sam was right. James really was meant to fly.____

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> Special thanks to my best friend for beta reading. (mad-hatter-holicing.tumblr.com)


End file.
